


Peppermint

by kindaquirky



Series: Like A Good Neighbor [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: (again), And coffee, Damian Wayne is Robin, Every good relationship begins with stalking, Everything stopped with the booty shorts, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, One Shot, Regrettable Costume Choices, Seasonal, Snow Patrol, So you may need another snack, Stephanie Brown is Batgirl, The thirst is real, Tim Drake is Not Robin, a weird amount of food is eaten in this fic, and business cards, coffee is life but hot chocolate is currency, makes my stories go round, with guest appearances by - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindaquirky/pseuds/kindaquirky
Summary: You never forget your first Insurance Agent.Just ask Jason
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Like A Good Neighbor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064762
Comments: 19
Kudos: 321





	Peppermint

**Author's Note:**

> I have regrets
> 
> This is not one of them.
> 
> If you're the type of person who likes to set the ~*~Mood~*~ this whole mess was written with Snow Patrol's _Time Won't Go Slowly_ and Taylor Swift's _Lover_ playing in the background. Because I'm a sap.
> 
> This is a prequel of sorts to Like A Good Neighbor, so if you haven't read that, then this may not make a lot of sense.

December in Gotham has always been shit. The rest of winter was icy, but December was damp, flurries hitting and melting fast enough that the roofs of the city were perpetually covered in a sheen of slick sludge. It wasn’t any better on the ground; barely frozen puddles shattering under unobservant walkers, giving them a cold shock while hurrying to their destination. 

But the lights were pretty, Jason reasons. He liked when he ran fast enough, or swung far enough, the multi-colored lights would blur together sometimes, softening the harsh edges of Crime Alley in something somewhat habitable. Eventually he would come to a stop, footing unsteady as it always was in those early winter months, as if his body slowly forgot how to land as the year warmed, then cooled again. 

It was the loud laugh that made him pause as he prepared to jump to the next building. It was that strange in-between time, where all the good little children had gone home to bed but the darker parts of Gotham had yet to really begin making moves. The laughter was unusual, loud and bright in a place where the working girls normally stayed quiet, less of a chance of getting caught, or harassed, by the cops. 

He leans over the building, trying to get a look at what was happening below. He’d be mostly welcomed, he knew. Red Hood may not have been a friend to criminals, but the sex workers through Crime Alley and the Bowery knew they could count on him to watch out for them as best he could. But before the laughter stopped at his entrance, before the energy shifted from joy to wariness, he wanted to catch a glimpse of what could have brought it on. 

At first Jason thinks it's a john, he’s too bundled up compared to Lina and younger girls milling around her to be someone working alongside them. But he’s not making advances, even when one of the girls slips an arm around his shoulder and leans close, making him wiggle until she laughs as well and steps away. The empty drink carrier he’s holding by his side helps kill that idea as well; he’s never seen someone try and pick Lina up by offering her a latte. 

The girls all seem calm and easy around him, gossiping with each other as he nods along. It’s not until Jason sees Lina nudge the man gently that he realizes they’re not gossiping, they’re debriefing. He can barely hear them talking about how some of businesses have noticed the freon from their units have been drained, a sure sign that Freeze is having issues getting a big shipment of the coolant, and isn’t that an interesting little factoid Jason hadn’t heard the Bats ever mention in their briefings? The young man nods along, even as the girls jump topics to complaining about how the Falcone boys always seem to want to barter pricing on anything. 

Jason settles in and learns along with the man that not only has freon gone missing, but that a weird green sludge has been seen over in Otisburg, and even when Mel called it in after a date, there was no follow up by the cops. Every woman down there somehow has health insurance questions this man is quick to answer or offer to follow up with them later in the week. 

Jason is silent the entire time he watches from his perch, going as far as muting his com so as not to be distracted by the Bats as he listens in to the conversations below. If they really need him, he’s sure there’ll be an explosion or something to let him know. It’s an odd little play to watch, the juxtaposition between this man paying attention to the information the women have while they partake in the coffee he’s apparently brought them as payment, yet no one outright stating the give and take happening. 

He wants to get closer but knows when he does that the mood will shift quickly, will slip from passive comradery to something wary, something darker. 

It’s almost friendship, he realizes as he watches the man fish out a bag of pastries to pass around. The way they hang near each other, the small smiles passed between them almost as often as information. Maybe not full fledged, maybe not yet, but as Jason watches the man slip deeper into the shadows as a car slowly pulls up, it's more than the truce he’s slowly building with Dick, more than the slow looks he shares with Cass behind Damian’s back. It’s more than the blank neutrality he has with Bruce, and Jason is confused because the longer he watches, the less the man fits.  
  
He doesn’t have the sharp edges, the hardened feel that radiates off everyone from the Alley. Even after Bruce had tried his best to make him fit the socialite darling persona Dick had slipped into so easily, people had known where he was from before he even opened his mouth. But from the way the women circle back around after one of their group is picked up,the man is liked, welcomed in by them. It’s strange watching this man eek out information that even he didn’t know about the city he's protected most of his life. 

Finally, the man moves to leave, receiving waves and a hug from Lina, heading down the dark alley between the two large warehouses, tossing the empty drink container into a nearby dumpster. Jason moves to follow, waiting until the man is far enough away from the streetlights at either end, shadowed enough he won’t notice Jason dropping down, gun already in hand. 

He lands hard, hitting a large puddle, and it’s enough to have the man whipping around, pepper spray already in hand and drawn up in front of him. He doesn’t pull the trigger right away, which gives Jason time to slip around the raised arm and rip the sprayer out of his hand before shoving the man against the slick concrete wall of one of the buildings.  
  
He’s pale, pale enough Jason can tell even in the poor lighting. And slight, in the same delicate way Cass is, that Jason never was, even young and starving. His mouth is pulled tight, a frown maring his lip shape. Jason’s aware of his own stature, has used it to intimidate more people than he’d care to admit, but this man’s head just hits his chin, and tightening his hand, he can feel how oversized his black peacoat is compared to the tense shoulder it covers.  
  
His eyes, though, are a different story. The steel blue of his eyes are bereft of the normal emotions of fear and anxiety Jason is used to. Instead they’re calm, staring directly at Jason. Jason could imagine him giving the same bland look across a boardroom like Bruce used to, which only makes him pull the gun a little higher.

“Coffee?” the man offers, twisting the wrist holding the cup near his waist to make the cup’s contents swish softly. 

“What are you doing here?” Jason asks, and the voice modulator keeps the confusion of the situation from leaking out for the man to hear.

“Visiting some friends,” he says calmly. 

“You always visit your friends in dark alleys in the middle of the night?” 

“Well, it’s easier to catch up with them when they’re all together.”

He’s still calm, answering Jason’s questions like there isn’t a gun pressed close to his sternum. 

“And why do you need to catch up with these ladies in particular?”

“Because they’re my friends,” the man says slowly, and Jason is trying not to remember how people used to shiver in terror at the mere mention of the Red Hood. If miniature businessmen in dark alleys think they can scoff at him, he’s gonna have to have a big public shootout soon, do his best to bring the fear back to his name. 

“And do your friends always tell you about what’s going on in Otisburg?” Jason growls, and the man's mouth tightens.

Jason has no idea what’s going on in Otisburg. Batgirl prefers the warehouse district, and Jason is more than happy to leave her with the tiny, winding corridors that make up the roads there, and the god-awful stench of rotting buildings that has a tendency to waft through the area on hot, sticky days.

“That’s what I thought,” Jason says when the man stays silent. “Now, how about a little honesty, hm?”

“I am being honest,” the man says, and Jason can tell he believes it.

Every time he breathes, every time a slight movement makes the cup he’s still clutching shake, Jason is met with a whiff of peppermint. It’s sweet, almost cloying, and strong enough even his hood can’t fully filter the smell out. It makes Jason want to step back, makes him want to slip his hood off to find out just how strong the scent must be. 

He presses the gun slightly harder against the man’s sternum.

“Let’s try for a little more then. Now, one more time, and I won’t ask nicely again, why are you talking to the girls about Otisburg?”

“I wasn’t,” he starts, and Jason clicks the safety off of his gun. “They offered that information. I just came here to bring them some coffee and make sure they had filed to re-up their city insurance. The deadline is the fifteenth, and they need to make sure everything is in by then.”

“Why would you care about their health insurance?” Jason asks, and even the modulator can’t keep the confusion from leaking through.

“As their insurance agent, I care a lot.”

Jason needs a moment. 

Jason probably needs several moments, but he’ll work through the rest later. He pulls the gun slightly away from the man, who takes a deep breath now that he’s got a little bit more room. 

“You work for the Foundation?” Jason can ask, already sure he doesn’t. He hasn’t seen the Wayne Foundation ever try to make its way to Crime Alley not even in the daylight. 

The man snorts, and any other time Jason would be pissed that someone would find the Red Hood someone that they could treat so casually. Right now though, he’s...puzzled is the only word he can think of that doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable, like a poorly written romantic device.

“Definitely not. I work for an insurance company, but I’ve been offering the ladies help with their paperwork for a few years now,” he answers, and Jason is still incredibly confused by this turn of events.

“And they show their appreciation by giving you a few juicy tidbits about Gotham?” Jason questions, the man stares at Jason with those cool eyes for a moment. 

“Sometimes,” the man answers, and Jason did ask for honesty. 

“How do I know you’re not pulling my chain?” Jason asks, and Jason watches the man fight not to roll his eyes.

“If I reach into my coat to grab my business cards, are you going to shoot me?”

Jason doesn’t answer the dry, sarcastic question but does click the safety back into place. 

The man watches Jason intently as he slips his empty hand into the inner breast pocket of his coat and pulls out a business card that he holds out to Jason.

Jason steps back and takes the card, tilting it slightly so that the lettering catches the dim streetlights. 

“Huh,” Jason says after reading the card a couple times, flipping it around to check for more writing.

“Yes,” Tim Drake says, swishing his cup again, Jason far enough away that he’s not slammed with the scent again.

“Huh,” Jason repeats, staring at him for a moment before handing the card back.

“Are you alright?” Tim asks, a hint of humor in his voice as he slips the card back into the pocket it came from and takes a sip of his drink.

“I think you’re the first insurance agent I’ve met. It’s a new experience for me,” Jason shrugs.

“Tonight is a night of firsts for the both of us,” Tim states, and Jason is thrown by the nonchalant act he’s still working.

“You’re handing this whole thing rather calmly,” Jason points out, and Tim gives him a small shrug.

“Everyone knows the Red Hood’s only a danger to criminals.”

Jason moves before Tim’s finished speaking, presses into Tim’s personal space, and there. Now there’s the fear that Jason’s used to, eeking out, cracking the bland persona Tim’s been trying to use. He’d believe it, if he hadn’t watched his interactions with the women earlier, watched him laugh and talk with them so casually.

“Are you sure about that?” Jason asks, soft enough that even the slightly robotic voice the modulator gives him is barely above a whisper. Tim has to tilt his head to keep eye contact with the helmet, and Jason can watch as he shifts from fear to assurance, voice steady as he answers.

“Yes.”

Jason steps back again, slipping his gun back into his holster and pulling out his grapple.

“Let’s not do this again,” Jason says as he shoots his grapple and zips up to the roof once more. 

Jason doesn’t leave. Instead he glances over the edge of the roof, watches as Tim looks around and slowly slips down the wall he was against, dropping his cup and running both hands through his hair before covering his face as he drops slowly to the ground, knees pulled up close to his chest. Jason gives him credit. Tim kept it together a lot better than Jason expected. He starts running across the rooftops once more, flipping on his com, listening to Batgirl berate Robin for running ahead. He flips it off again and tries to run fast enough that the lights blur, that his filters clear the sweet, sticky scent of the coffee away, that he doesn’t have to think about how sure Tim looked when he answered.

The next morning he’s half done with a Peppermint Mocha before he realizes what he’s drinking. 

* * *

It happens again. 

  
It’s been a few months, the icy nightmare that gripped Gotham for months finally thawing, with all the growing things that had been dormant beginning to show signs of life again. The nights were still soft and cool at least, making the marathon that was roof running in Gotham still somewhat bearable. 

  
Jason’s paused in his route at the small alley between two warehouses again, like he had done a few times since his first meeting with Tim. He had almost deluded himself into thinking it was to make sure Tim wasn’t coming back, afraid of seeing the Red Hood again. He’s about ready to move on, check on a few of the dives he knows always have a few mid-level made men he can threaten for information when he hears a small round of cheering come from alley.

  
Jason hurries to look down and sees Tim handing Lina a bag from which she pulls cans of Inca Kola and small brown paper bags that the girls pull homemade chifle out of. There’s a couple cans and brown bags left over, but Lina just slips the grocery bag from her forearm to balance on a low stack of nearby pallets as Tim opens a can of Kola for her and then himself, waving away the long, thin, plantain chip Lina waves at him. 

  
One of the girls, Coraline, he remembers from his past check-in on the roof, refuses to talk to Tim, walking away from the group the moment she sees him. She’s by far the youngest one out there, and Jason watches Tim shoulders drop as she forgoes both the food and his company. Lina only shrugs at him, and they all go back to their conversation.

  
This time, there’s almost no gossip. The group looks like they would fit better hanging out on an apartment stoop than at the end of an alley, cars slowly passing to glance at the women before speeding up again. Mel, another name he’s picked up, does mention how one of her regulars works for the Falcones, but apparently one of the matrons had an important birthday coming up, so most of them were doing their best to stay out of trouble and not get caught when they couldn’t. 

  
Lina brings up the Ghost Dragons, and Jason perks up, ready to see what dirt she knows, but it’s only to talk about how surprised they were about seeing the live footage of Black Bat flinging herself out of a burning warehouse. Jason would love to go down there to let them know she had lit the fire herself, and Stephanie had told her about the camera crew as a warning to not get caught on film, not a _dare_.

  
He doesn’t. This really is just a group of friends meeting, and talking, and eating, and all the things Jason thought Tim had bullshitted about the last time they spoke. Tim does slip his hands into the back pocket of his skinny jeans and pulls out a few cards to hand to Lina when she mentions a few people had asked her about getting some coverage but couldn’t get to one of the very few Foundation offices in Burnley that were made to help sign people up for housing and insurance. 

  
And that’s it. 

  
Tim waves, heads out while the girls are still slowly sipping their sweet drinks with no more information than what he started with. 

  
Jason does hop down this time, landing silent and steady, standing just deep enough in the shadows that Tim doesn’t notice him until they’re less than a dozen feet away from each other, and he stops so hard his sneakers squeak over the gravel as he goes to pull out his mace. 

  
“Relax,” Jason says, stepping just slightly closer to the light. “It’s only me.”

  
“Is that supposed to calm me down?” Tim asks, finger on the trigger of his mace but not pointing it at Jason yet.

  
And fine, the last couple months had been a little rough on his reputation. He hadn’t killed anyone this time, but he had been incredibly close. The serial killer would have deserved it. Robin had come to him a few nights after one of Jason’s many fights with Bruce, the last one getting physical on the streets for all Gotham to see just after Bruce had dropped the man at the GCPD’s main branch. It’d been a rough match, Jason spitting vitriol as Bruce snapped back about being better than the darkest parts of Gotham, letting those watching their fight know exactly which side of that line Batman thought Red Hood landed. 

  
Damian had sat on the window sill for a few minutes staring up at the starless sky, silent as Jason sat at his kitchen table, icing his side. He’d looked over at Jason, shoulder dropping as he said, barely loud enough for Jason to hear, “I wanted to kill him too,” before slipping off the sill and melting into the night. 

  
Cass had found him on the street in the daylight, Stephanie dragged along, and had handed him a tiny bow clip that matched the one in her hair before walking away. The bow was a balm of sorts, the same as Damain’s quiet declaration. It may not have come from the person Jason was desperate to hear it from, but it was a reminder at least that he wasn’t alone.

  
“I’m only a danger to criminals, remember?” Jason reminds them both.

  
Tim does. He can see it in the way his shoulders drop slightly away from his ears, when he sees that Jason’s hands are empty. 

  
“Did you...need something?” Tim asks slowly, not slipping his mace away but at least trying to engage.

  
“Just noticing that you didn’t take my advice.”

  
“Advice?” Tim says, dry enough that Jason can practically feel the edge of the word and smirks under his hood. “‘Let’s not do this again’ is not advice; it’s a statement.”

  
“Which you clearly did not follow.”

  
Jason is reaching, he can feel it, and knows Tim can feel it too. His eyes squint at Jason as he takes a step to the side, then another, preparing to walk around Jason.

  
“Not that I’m complaining. Where’d you get the chifle?”

  
“Esther’s,” Tim answers automatically and then sighs. “How long were you watching us?”

  
“Long enough to know you’re insane for turning down anything from Esther’s.”

  
“I ate a bag on my way,” Tim defends, making Jason huff out a laugh. The sound makes Tim wince, but his face quickly smooths back out. 

  
“If this is gonna be our thing,” Jason says, continuing over Tim’s mumbled ‘what the hell?’ “I’d prefer something a little heavier on the caffeine and a little lighter on the sugar the next time you bring something.” Jason walks back the way Tim came, not bothering to pause at Tim’s “Seriously, what the hell?”

  
Jason heads towards the group of women, saluting them as they pause in eating and drinking to watch the Red Hood slip a can of kola out of the bag and quickly cross the street, Tim following, only pausing when Mel shoots out a hand to stop him from crossing as well. 

  
He waits until he’s not in their eyeline before scrambling up a fire escape to watch the group again, soda still gripped in his hand. Tim has a hand over his eyes, his other arm still being gripped by Mel. It’s not until Lina starts to giggle, turning into full throated laughs as Tim drops the hand covering his eyes that the tension breaks. Jason can’t see the look he shoots her, but it’s enough to make Mel start to shake in laughter as well. Lina is only not pointing at Tim in full hysterics because her hands are still full of food. 

  
He can’t hear what passes between Tim and Lina from this far away, voices too low and the distance too far. But a woman, Anna, he recalls, walks over, looking like she had just been dropped off and gently kisses Coraline on the cheek where she’s standing to the side, hands covering her mouth in apparent shock, calls out loud enough for most of the block to probably hear.  
“What the fuck did I miss?”

* * *

Jason hates the summer. He hates the winter too, for all the reasons people think of when he says he was a street kid. The cold, the ice, the way even indoors he was never warm. He hates the summer for similar reasons. He feels sticky for months, the heat from the long days soaking into the concrete throughout the city so even the nights bring no relief, especially when he’s on patrol, layers of protection feeling like layers of regret.

  
And the smell. The garbage stink that’s baked all day rises to meet the vigilantes as they swing through the sky. He and Stephanie had spent last night making fun of Damian after they had caught him grimacing at the smell that wafted directly at him while he was standing too close to Bruce’s cape, the look of shock and disgust a bright spot for the both of them.

  
He could be on a beach, where when the heat got too unbearable he could slip into the cool waters or lay in the shade of the palm trees nearby. Kori had invited him, let him know all he had to do was call and she’d pick him up asap. Roy had shot him a look around Kori’s back, and Jason had remembered how much effort he had put into preparing a surprise for when they arrived. Jason had done the friendly thing, the right thing, and declined. 

  
Jason had never regretted his righteousness more than right now, ripping his hood off and wiping his sweaty face down with a hand towel he pulled from his gross, leather jacket. There’s no breeze, no air movement to help cool down. There’s barely a temperature change between the inside of the hood and the night, and Jason has so many regrets about his choice of costume during these long months. 

  
He honestly doesn’t even realize he’s stopped at the alley he’s met Tim at before until he realizes he can hear the distant sounds of ice in cups, the sound alone has him breaking out in a new layer of sweat, and he’s desperate to find the culprit and beg a cold drink out of him. 

  
Jason leans over the ledge and sees Tim handing out massive cups of lemonade, the plastic cups sweating rivers. The women are more interested in the sweet coconut bars they’ve already ripped into, the heat already making the confection drip. 

  
Jason has never been more jealous in any of his whole, weird lives. 

  
He has to remind himself that even if he dropped down there and begged a drink off one of the people down there, there’d be no way to drink it with the hood on, and he yet again, has regrets. 

  
This is the first time since winter he’s seen Tim partake in a food with the rest of the group. He’s got his own coconut bar and lemonade, munching down in the congenial silence of the group, all of them too focused on the impossible task of trying to cool down.

  
“You hear Two-Face got out?” Mel asks Tim directly, and it’s the most direct Jason’s seen anyone be in one of these give and takes.

  
“When?” Tim asks, finishing the last bite of his coconut bar.

  
“Last night. Date ended early when he got the call,” Mel says, and Jason knows she must have been with one of his men because that information hadn’t hit the news yet. Gordon had put a tight cap on it so people didn’t freak out.

  
“I’ll make an update. Are you gonna be safe?” Tim asks her, and she gives him a sharp smile. 

  
“You should worry about yourself first,” Anna interjects. “All that skin out, people are gonna get the wrong idea,” she says, barely containing her laughter as she points at Tim. Jason takes in what he’s wearing for the first time, and he has to cover his mouth so no one hears his shocked laughter. 

  
Tim’s hair is knotted in a bun on the top of his head, loose pieces falling against his face and sticking to the sweat. He’s in a loose tank top, the green and black stripes stark against his pale skin. But it’s the shorts that almost send Jason over the edge. They’re black, and easily a foot or more above his knees, his pale thighs a shock against the black fabric. He looks both incredibly sweaty and comfortable at the same time. 

  
“It’s hot,” Tim complains.

  
“Just saying, you hang out on this street, looking like that…” Lina jokes, tugging gently at the athletic fabric grazing his thighs.

  
“See if I bring you lemonade again,” Tim grouses, pulling away. Mel pats him on the back in the most condescending manner Jason has ever seen.

  
“Are you though?” Tim tries again, and Mel just nods, letting the conversation flow back into that strange back and forth game they play, where the girls gossip and Tim just...listens in.

  
He leaves earlier this time, the news about Two-Face apparently more than enough, though Mel does call out to him to not forget their brunch date that weekend. 

  
Jason plans to leave but instead watches Tim for a while, until the man stops in the alley and looks up. 

  
“I know you’re up there.”

  
Jason’s heart stops. He slams on his hood, looking around the roof, expecting Tim has someone he’s been waiting for. 

  
Jason will blame the heat for the time it takes to realize Tim is talking to _him_.

  
Jason knows it’s too dark for Tim to have seen him without his hood, and even if he had, he always wears the domino just in case. 

  
Jason makes him wait a moment longer before making his way down, taking the time to jump from building to building as Tim watches him. 

  
“Oh my god, you’re still wearing the jacket too?” Tim says once Jason is close enough to talk, giving Jason a miserable look.

  
“What do you mean? Do you think this jacket is incredibly warm and traps heat, making it impossible to cool down?” Jason complains, making Tim wince. “How’d you know I was up there?”

  
“I heard you laughing at me,” Tim grouses, and Jason laughs.

  
“Those are incredibly short shorts, and you have incredibly pale legs, how could I not?” 

  
“Are you working on getting Two-Face?” Tim asks him directly, and Jason guesses this just became a business call.

  
“That’s none of your business,” Jason says, crossing his arms against his chest.

  
“I live here; it’s absolutely my business.” 

  
“What we’re doing is none of your business,” Jason says again, and Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

  
“What?” Jason asks, but Tim just continues taking a long pull of his lemonade.

  
“Is this how you torture people? With cold drinks on hot days?”

  
“Want a sip?” Tim says, toothy grin as he holds the drink out to Jason.

  
Jason uncrosses his arms and whips out a hand quick. Quick enough that Tim doesn’t have time to pull the cup away before Jason has snatched it from him.

  
“Hey!” Tim gasps, his now empty, outstretched hand pointing at Jason. “You can’t even drink that!”

  
“You offered. Are you saying you’re the type of man that would taunt the Red Hood, Scourge of the Gotham Underground?” Jason says, rattling the half full cup near his hood.

  
“You can’t just give yourself titles like that, and seriously, are you working on the Two-Face thing?”

  
“We’ll get him soon enough,” Jason says, which isn’t a lie. Batman and Robin are tracking him as Jason stands here, with Tim.

  
“That’s great,” Tim says in a tone that doesn’t sound grateful at hearing that someone other than the GCPD was working on finding Harvey. “But what about the whole, he got out of Arkham somehow? Are you working on making sure no one else in there follows him out?”

  
They are. Oracle has both Batgirl and Black Bat working on the logistics side, backtracking from last known sightings to figure out how Harvey gave the guards the slip again. 

  
Nightwing has been given the rest of the city to watch by Batman. Dick had called Jason to try and work out a rotation that kept them both from missing a corner of the city and kept Jason away from Bruce because, while Bruce was moving on from the fight, he still had yet to give Jason access to the cave back.

  
Alfred had. But it wasn’t the same.

  
“Of course. We’re not imbeciles.” 

  
Tim’s eyebrow slips up again, and his hands slip against his shorts.

  
“Those things have pockets?” Jason points out gleefully, as Tim slips his hands into his front pockets. “How’d they spare the extra fabric?” 

  
“I’m leaving,” Tim says, turning on his heel and stomping down the alleyway. Jason is too busy laughing to do anything but wave the half-full cup as a goodbye, the ice crashing against the sides of the cup.

  
He waits until Tim is gone before pulling out his grapple and ascending to the roof, setting his cup down so he can rip the hood off again. He pulls the lid off the plastic cup as soon as he picks it back up and downs the lemonade in one go.

  
It’s tart, barely enough sugar to counteract the bitterness of the lemons, and would have tasted even better if he was drinking it while eating a too sweet coconut bar. But right now, it's perfect to quench his thirst, and the chilled cup feels amazing against his forehead. 

  
His com crackles to life as he’s fishing out ice to chew, Dick’s voice low and urgent in his ear.

  
“Hood? How long would it take you to get to Coventry?” 

  
“Good traffic? Twenty minutes?” Jason guesses as he continues chewing.

  
“Something weird is...are you eating something?” Dick asks, tone switching from serious to aghast in milliseconds.  
“Ice. Picked up a lemonade on my route,” Jason says, finishing a few more pieces as he picks up his hood and starts running towards his closest bike.

  
“You had time to get a drink? And didn’t get me one?” 

  
Now Dick just sounds like a child. 

  
“Sorry Doordash wouldn’t take ‘skyline between Sixth and Twenty-Eighth’ as a pickup address.”

  
“After you get here, and we figure out why Harley is flirting with Maroni, we are so stopping for an iced-tea.”

  
“Wing,” Jason says as he slips his hood on before dropping onto the ground, tossing the empty cup into an already overfilled dumpster. “Haven’t heard a better idea all night.”

* * *

Jason hasn’t been to the alley in months. He’s apparently earned a place back with Bruce, hell if he knows how, after the Two-Face debacle when he got away, but with that comes more work, more debriefings, and less time to run the alleys like he used to. His patrols are more precise, less roundabout now, and while having the extra help is beneficial sometimes, he still likes the nights where he can just run, and run, and run.

  
He stops at the alley though, looks around, and sees the girls. But no Tim. He’s about to leave when one girl starts complaining about almost getting caught by one of the new gangs who think they’re gonna make money faster by pimping the women out. Jason hasn’t been able to get one of the men yet, the group too new that none of the local, more established gangs have really put eyes on them either. Lina hugs her close, and Jason hears her promise she’ll make sure they get sent on their way, gesturing behind herself in a dramatic fashion. Jason nods in agreement, if anyone is gonna make sure that girl is safe, it’s Lina. 

  
Jason glances down the alley and sees a figure hurrying away from the girls and realizes that maybe Lina wasn’t being dramatic. He hurries to catch the man before he can get away. Jason drops to the ground just behind the man and twists his gloved hand into the hood of his jacket, trying to throw the man off his feet before he has time to react. 

  
Apparently the man is prepared because as Jason hauls him deeper into the alleyway, the man whips a baton around and slams it right into Jason’s helmet, hard enough that he knocks out a sensor on the side that was already giving him trouble tonight, messing with Jason’s line of sight in the hood, and now the Red Hood is _pissed_. 

  
“What the fuck, kid? Is that a nightstick? Can civilians even have those?”

  
“It’s a baton, and of course we can. And what do you think is going to happen when you attack someone in an alley?”   
Jason can hear something familiar in the voice, but there’s a buzzing in the hood right now thanks to the sensor, so it’s not helping him make any connections. 

  
“Shooting usually,” Jason growls, pressing the man into the wall, and he’s tiny enough that Jason can straighten his back and hopefully terrify the man with his stature before having to pull a weapon.

  
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Jason asks, ready for the whining and pleads for mercy. 

  
He is not prepared for the incredibly dry tone he receives back. 

  
“Talking with the girls. Is that a crime?”

  
“Talking?” Jason repeats. “No, but you weren’t just talking to them. You were bribing them for something. What?”

  
“None of your business,” is the answer he gets back, and Jason is honestly flabbergasted. Who in the hell do these baby gangsters think they are to be so damn casual? He’s the Red Hood! Terror of the Gotham Underground! The man tries to slip to the side, and Jason doesn’t mean to let him, he’s just in a bit of shock.

  
“Wrong answer," Jason growls. “And don’t bother trying to run.”

  
“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the good guys or something? Isn’t there a mugging or an assault you should be stopping?” The man’s tone is annoyed, and as he talks, the voice clicks.

  
Tim. 

  
“Are you really going to waste time interrogating a guy who brought some women hot chocolate on a cold night?”

  
“Hot chocolate?” Jason says slowly, biting down on his laughter, which only seems to egg Tim on more.

  
“Yes,” Tim snaps, pointing to the cup he must have dropped when he pulled his baton. “Hot chocolate, some cookies. You know,” Tim continues and his tone is icy towards Jason, towards Red Hood. “Nice things for some nice ladies.”

  
“There’s been some guys hanging around trying to recruit girls into pimping and running drugs. Thought you might be working with one of them,” Jason explains, which does nothing to calm Tim down. 

  
“Well, I’m not,” Tim snaps, tone fierce and Jason realizes he hasn’t noticed that Jason’s recognized him yet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s cold, I’m tired, and I’ve just been attacked by the Red Hood, so I’d like to go home now.”

  
“Jesus,” Jason says, moving to lean against the warehouse wall. “Calm down, Tim. I couldn't see who it was talking to the girls. Can you blame a guy for jumping to the wrong conclusions?” Jason continues, seeing the implicit yes written over Tim’s features at the question. “And only the ladies get cocoa? I’m hurt, kid. Thought you said I was one of the good guys or something.”

  
“Sorry,” Tim simpers, and Jason both loves and hates that Tim is comfortable enough with him to mouth off. “Didn’t sync your looming schedule up with my chocolate delivery. I’ll have to reprogram my PDA.”

  
“You’re a riot,” Jason says flatley, mouthing ‘PDA’ to himself in glee under his hood. “Stay out of this area until this is all cleared up,” Jason orders, and he watches Tim’s hackles rise up, just as Jason realizes he’s doing this to Tim on purpose now. “And if the ladies tell you anything about these guys, let me know.”

  
“How?” Tim asks, and Jason is brought up short because that is a great question. These meetings have all been serendipitous. Jason seeing Tim and stopping; or not, and moving on. 

“Should I build a Red Hood signal? Backlight an uzi in my living room window just for you?”

  
“Bedroom window would be my suggestion, your choice,” slips out before Jason can stop himself. He’s not exactly opposed to the idea of Tim being able to get in touch with him...but a bedroom light may be a little on the nose.

  
“But seriously,” Jason continues, imagining that Tim is rolling his eyes, the man just far enough away he can’t tell perfectly. “Stay out of the area. Some weird shit is going down, so stay out of the Bowery,” Jason ends pointing at Tim and blatantly ignoring Tim's huffing about Gotham always being weird. 

  
“Sir, yes sir,” Tim mumbles, collapsing his baton and slipping into his hoodie as Jason walks past him, definitely not brushing against Tim’s shoulder. 

  
“Watch the sarcasm, you know what it does to me,” Jason says, getting an annoyed huff out of Tim. “And I’ll be on the lookout for your uzi in the sky,” Jason says, timing his grapple perfectly to shoot him into the sky just as he finished speaking, not giving Tim a chance to respond.

  
He watches long enough to make sure Tim makes it out of the alley and drops to sit on the roof, slipping his helmet off to pop it open and look at the damage.

  
“Who’s on this line?” Batgirl says, and he, Cass, and Damian all sound off. Batgirl is silent until Oracle pops in with a positive that Bruce is on another channel. He's annoyed at Damian for doing a run through the Upper East Side by himself tonight, and at Stephanie for backing Damian’s choice.

  
“Remember how you wanted me to check out some of those sketchy insurance agents?”

  
“Yes,” Damian agrees, and Jason can hear him shooting his grapple through the line.

  
“We’re wire-tapping the normies now?” Jason asks, finding the wire that he should have probably replaced last week that Tim’s baton had somehow nailed.

  
“No, we are casually checking on people who seem to be a little too on the nose about how the bad guys seem to work,” Stephanie defends. “Not important,” Stephanie continues, which gets a huff of a laugh out of Cass.

  
“There’s this super sweet, super shy guy, and he’s either the real deal or the best liar I’ve ever met. He has _thank-you cards._ The only other weirdos who do that are Bruce and Damian.”

  
“A show of appreciation is always welcomed,” Damian defends mulishly.

  
“See, weird right? Anyway, he was like, super by the book, but I think he was into me,” Steph says, weirdly excited about someone she was sent to investigate.

  
“But you think he’s what,” Jason questions, shoving the wires back into place, “helping bad guys by bundling home and auto?”

  
“There is someone skimming from the Foundation funds, and it looks to be through extraneous claims. He has one of the highest payouts to multiple claimants,” Damian states, and yeah, stealing from the Wayne Foundation was something that would get any of them annoyed.

  
“You think he’s lying,” Cass states, as Jason shoves the hood back on.

  
“He’s lying about something,” Steph agrees. “I don’t know what, but he was all sweet and shy and blushing when I went back in, and I’m definitely seeing him again.”

  
“If you do not believe it was Drake then it’s time to move on to the next,” Damian grouses, and Jason pauses, hand halfway to his grapple.

  
“I don’t think it’s Tim, but better to be sure right?” Steph says, and Damian just sighs and signs off the channel. 

  
Jason has to sit down.

  
Tim. Sweet? Shy? Being investigated by Damian and Steph for cheating out the Foundation? 

  
The same man who had been arguing with him for months? Who went out of his way to bring treats to the sex workers he knew? Who just nailed the _Red Hood_ with a nightstick?

  
But those same ladies also fed Tim information every time he fed them midnight snacks.

  
Jason didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like the idea that his Tim could have been lying to him and the women he surrounded himself with. 

  
Jason doesn’t pull out his grapple. Instead he spends the rest of the night running as fast as he can, buildings blurring together and the wind whipping hard enough he can pretend he’s not listening. Doesn’t listen as Steph and Cass talk about Tim. Where he works, how he looks. 

  
What he’s like when he’s talking to a pretty girl and not a hooded vigilante. 

  
He’s out of breath when he finally stops long enough to rip his hood off and pull the com out of his ear, only to shove it into a jacket pocket. The silence of the docks should be a respite, should help him calm his racing heart and thoughts, but instead, his mind fills with more confusion, now that he’s not focused on moving. 

  
The desire, half formed and wholly ridiculous, comes to him as the sky begins to lighten. To see how Tim would act when faced with Jason, not the Red Hood, refuses to leave, even as he hurries back to a close hideout before the morning dock workers can catch sight of him.

* * *

It’s only when he’s dropping into the chair across from Tim’s desk, lifted business card from Stephanie’s purse in his fist, and zero plan that he realizes he’s in too deep. 

  
But when he catches the look of interest whip across Tim’s face as he catches sight of Jason while he gets as comfortable as he can in the small chair, he figures, what’s the worst that could happen?

**Author's Note:**

> Friends. Comrades. Everyone. Thank Nebula for asking "....But what if we hit 100k?"
> 
> This was all written in one very long session, so apologies if it seems a little fever-fueled because well...kinda was?
> 
> Also, I swear, if you left comments on Neighbor, I WILL GET TO THEM I'M JUST TIRED.
> 
> (Edited to add: this is a one-shot my loves. Sorry?)
> 
> And hey, thanks for coming back.


End file.
